


Never Feared For Anything

by PrinceSnoozy



Series: Gladio Rarepair Week 2019 [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alcohol, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Gladio Rarepair Week 2019, Gladio just needs a hug, Grief/Mourning, Kissing, Light Angst, Mentioned Clarus Amicitia, Vulnerability, i'M SAD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 05:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17739824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceSnoozy/pseuds/PrinceSnoozy
Summary: After Insomnia falls, Gladio has some feelings he just can't deal with, so he goes to the one person who can understand.Day 1 of Gladio Rarepair Week 2019 for the prompt "Vulnerable."





	Never Feared For Anything

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who's read my fic Touch, this and other fics in this week series will take place in kind of an AU setting of that story. I'm doing it that way to practice writing Gladio and one of the new Glaives in a similar universe without giving away spoilers for it.
> 
> For those who haven't read it (which is probably most of you), [here are Naomi and Aquila](https://prince-snoozy-ao3-dump.tumblr.com/post/182730205095/throwing-this-here-for-ao3-purposes-carry-on). Just putting that out there so I didn't have to go on a long-winded description.
> 
> Big shoutout to clownfishae for letting me borrow her OC (Naomi) for my fics \o/

He couldn't do this anymore.  
  
Noctis was fine, and he was always one to close off and not speak to him or anyone else whenever something went so catastrophically wrong, starting when he was a kid, and he was handling this like a champ. Just like he taught him, just like he always wanted him to. He couldn't fault Noct for that.  
  
Ignis was always harder to read, and, although he had his moments of lost composure, he was still putting on a brave face, just as he was raised. Stoic and confident, even if he was screaming inside. That's just how he always was, how he was raised.  
  
But the worst was Prompto. Even he was putting up a strong bravado in the light of Insomnia's Fall, so effortlessly hiding his pain under that smile, and it seemed to help the others so much, especially for Noct. He seemed so confident in the Astrals and their willingness to help them, and that optimism had infected the others.  
  
But it wasn't working on him, not on Gladio. Not one bit.  
  
So he had to leave. He had to get away before he broke, before they noticed him break, before they saw him as anything other than Gladiolus Amicitia, the Shield of the Crown Prince.  
  
Well, that was Shield of the King, now. If there was even a place for the King of Lucis anymore.  
  
That's how he found himself here, in Old Lestallum, staring up at the motel, phone in hand. He could've called Cor, maybe sparred it out for a few hours to get these emotions out of his system, but that hadn't worked so far against Noct and it probably would never work. That's why he hadn't been able to stand up to Commander Ravus, why he caved when he should've been able to stand strong and firm, no matter the opponent. But he'd failed, and quickly, not even getting a hit in before he went down, leaving Noct to fight on his own.  
  
It's why he had to come here.  
  
He walked up to the room marked with a rusty and crooked '3' and rapped twice with his knuckles. He picked up on movement inside, footsteps padding to the door before it swung open, revealing one of the surviving Kingsglaive, though a much shorter one than he anticipated, with darker hair to boot. She stared at him, icy eyes traveling all over him, as if picking him apart, which he really didn't appreciate right now.  
  
But her gaze was soft, and it was as if she sensed why he'd come here.  
  
"Hey, Nao," she called out, turning her head back into the room. "You got company."  
  
She stepped out of the doorway then, motioning with her hand into the room, and he entered right after. He gazed around the room, giving the Glaive enough time to close the door behind him.  
  
He found who he was looking for, lounging in a chair, her eyes on him and away from her phone, which she held as if playing a video game. Like King's Knight.  
  
He swallowed a chuff, or a dry sob, he wasn't sure which, but he didn't want it to come out. Not now, not the first time seeing her after they left for Altissia, after Insomnia fell, after the fear that she didn't make it had finally passed upon hearing her voice over the phone.  
  
"Naomi..." he rasped before he could stop himself and control his tone, and he knew he fucked up when her mouth fell open just slightly, when he heard the subtle _click_  of her locking her phone.  
  
Naomi looked to the other Glaive, the one still behind him, and her expression changed to one of pleading. She didn't say anything, though, not a word.  
  
"Right, gotcha," the other Glaive replied to the silence, the door creaking as it opened behind him. "Want anything while I'm out?"  
  
Naomi shook her head, and the other woman clicked her tongue, and she left, leaving him alone with his... what were they anymore? They weren't exactly together, not anymore, though if they ever were was a question she'd never want him to ask, especially not now.  
  
And, if he was honest with himself, he didn't want her to ask him, either.  
  
"You should sit down," she said, her voice weary and strained.  
  
"I'm fine to stand," he replied, crossing his arms.  
  
"No... you're really not."  
  
He caught her gaze, just as weary as her voice was, as if she hadn't slept much in the past few weeks, which he understood. She'd seen so much more tragedy than he had, she was _there_ , in the Citadel, when the Empire attacked. She had much more of a right to feel this way than he did. So, he had to tear his gaze away, away from the pain in her eyes.  
  
She was a soldier, playing _his_  role as a shield to her impromptu partner, the most volatile and reckless Glaive to survive any battle, let alone the fall of Insomnia. Noctis wasn't so easy to handle, but he didn't fight like he had a deathwish, or like he had nothing to lose. And Gladio himself hadn't seen true battles until he'd left Insomnia, the worst being a drunk in the city, or a few thugs who thought they could get brownie points by attacking the Crown Prince. And after... it was all MT lackeys or a couple of mechs at the very worst. Not entire armies, not hordes of daemons, not an entire fleet of airships, and definitely not all of those things at once.  
  
Naomi had stared death in the face so many times, and still survived, still kept her composure.  
  
He really had no right to be here.  
  
"Sorry, I should leave," he muttered, already turning to the door.  
  
"So you can go back to pretending nothing's wrong?" Naomi asked, and he stopped in his tracks.  
  
"It's nothing I can't handle."  
  
"You wouldn't be here if you could."  
  
He sighed.  
  
"You already have your hands full with Aquila."  
  
"But she's not here, and why do you think she left us here alone?"  
  
He paused and looked back at Naomi, her tired eyes now focused, reminding him a bit too much of Ignis.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"I do."  
  
She stood and walked to him, her hand wrapping partway around his forearm.  
  
"Sit down," she urged, motioning toward the chair. "It's okay."  
  
But it wasn't okay. She'd lost more than he did; so many of her comrades fell, many of them after they betrayed her liege, betrayed _her_. What was he doing here, feeling sorry for himself, when she was the one who needed a shoulder to cry on? That's why he should really be here, to be there for her, but he just wasn't fucking strong enough to do that without falling apart, just as he was about to now, with her hand on his arm.  
  
"This was a mistake," he chuffed, moving his arm to pull it out of her grip.  
  
She resisted.  
  
"Do you really think that?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Look, I don't really know what you're thinking, but, to be perfectly honest, you look horrible."  
  
He sighed; she had him there. He allowed her to drag him over to the chair opposite hers and he plopped down, groaning at the stiff upolstery as it put pressure in all the wrong places.  
  
She sat back down in her chair, leaving her phone where it was, her eyes on him, hands clasped in her lap. He shifted uncomfortably, settling on leaning forward, resting an arm on his thigh while his other hand fiddled mindlessly at his pendant.  
  
It was so quiet in here, at this outpost; it would've been better if her big-mouthed partner had stayed. At least then he could talk and bullshit with her instead of being here with his thoughts screaming in his head over the silence.  
  
Even though it's probably what he needed. And Naomi probably knew that.  
  
"I... don't even know where to start," he said, running his free hand over his face. "I'm not... you've been through so much, even before the attack on the city, and I can't bring my own problems on you."  
  
"Why should that matter?"  
  
"Because I should be able to handle myself. I know the risks and the expectations of my duties, and I should be able to handle them, and the first time I lose someone... I shouldn't feel like I'm falling apart."  
  
"But it's not the first time."  
  
"My mother doesn't count."  
  
"Are you sure about that?"  
  
"It was a long time ago, Naomi."  
  
"Why should that matter?"  
  
That question again. He sighed, leaning back in the chair again, tipping his head back toward the ceiling.  
  
"It doesn't matter, that's why."  
  
"How did you deal with it back then?"  
  
He flinched.  
  
"I dealt with it like my dad did. We set the example for Iris, gave her a shoulder to cry on, the usual thing. She was so young, too, I'm not even sure she understood what was going on."  
  
"So you didn't deal with it."  
  
"I dealt with it my own way."  
  
"Which was?"  
  
"Pulled some extra hours in the training room, got it out of my system. What else is there?"  
  
"Gladio..."  
  
He lifted his head from the back of the chair and looked over to her, finding her head lowered, eyes toward the carpet. Her fists were clenched in her lap, her hands trembling just slightly. He sighed.  
  
"Sorry," he muttered, turning his face away.  
  
"Why do you feel like you have to keep up this routine up with me?" she asked, voice quiet.  
  
"What routine?"  
  
"You know what I mean."  
  
He sighed; of course he knew.  
  
"If I cried right now over what happened, would you think less of me?" she asked, locking eyes with him, blue on amber.  
  
"Of course not," he replied softly, leaning forward his knees.  
  
"Then grieve your dad."  
  
He hissed and turned his gaze away again.  
  
"Already am."  
  
"But you're hiding it, and not just from everyone else."  
  
"It's a habit."  
  
"A horrible habit."  
  
"I just can't let people see that I'm weak, okay?"  
  
His eyes stung and he shook his head.  
  
"You're not weak, Gladio."  
  
"Yeah I am."  
  
He covered his face with his hand, leaning into it before the stinging completely  consumed his eyes.  
  
"You said you wouldn't think less of me if I cried, so you shouldn't think less of yourself."  
  
"Because you have the right to cry."   
  
"And you don't?"  
  
"You were there."  
  
"Doesn't matter."  
  
"It's not like I saw him die."  
  
"I didn't either."  
  
"You saw others."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, if anyone should be crying right now," he looked up from behind his hand, "it's you."  
  
"What if I already have been?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You don't always see when people grieve, you know, when you're not around." She stood and came over to his side, sitting down on the armrest of his chair. "It's fine if you don't want your friends to see, but you need to let it out. And I won't judge you."  
  
"It's... not about that."  
  
"Maybe not. But it's part of it, right?"  
  
"...Right."  
  
Her arm snaked around his shoulder and she pulled him into her chest, where his head rested against her heart. He tried to pull his head away, but she rested her hand against the back of his head, and then her lips touched his hair, and then he just didn't _want_  to move.  
  
"I won't judge you," she repeated against his hair, holding him tighter. "It takes strength to cry, Gladio, and even more to grieve. You're only weak if you hide from it."  
  
"Then I must be pretty weak and pathetic then," he said bitterly with a shaky laugh.  
  
"You're not. Because you came here. No one forced you."  
  
He huffed again, but didn't respond; instead he brought his arms up around her back, and he pulled himself in closer, burying his face in her upper chest. He shuddered and snuggled in tight, her fingers combing through his hair. She made a small cooing sound then, and he lost it.  
  
"They didn't even announce his death in the news reports," he rasped against her shirt. "Like he was just an accessory to the King and not his own person with people who cared about him, who looked up to him."  
  
She kissed his hair again and he squeezed tighter, eyes stinging and wet, and he squeezed them shut to keep the tears from escaping; he failed.  
  
"He taught me everything, how to be a good Shield, a good father, how to look after Iris, EVERYTHING. But he was just a footnote, not even worth mentioning, when he meant the world to Iris, and... and to me."  
  
Her grip tightened in his hair.  
  
"And Iris... I'm all she has left, and I could die tomorrow because I'm just so _weak_  right now, and I'd leave her with no one else, and what then? What will happen to her? What about Noct? Who's going to look after them if I can't be there to protect them?"  
  
"I ask myself that everyday," she replied quietly against his hair, nuzzling her face into his locks.  
  
"How do you deal with it without burying it?"  
  
"I just concentrate on doing the best I can."  
  
"And that works?"  
  
"Not all the time."  
  
He sighed, a shaky sigh, though it sounded more like a quiet sob to his ears. He pulled back slightly, and she let him, so he could wipe his face of the tears, so she didn't have to see them. Her hand moved his arm away before he was finished wiping the tears away, and he blinked at her, the wetness still sticking to his eyelashes. She caressed his face and leaned in slightly, her eyes averted.  
  
"So I had another question," he said, his voice hoarse. "How do you deal with all... all the loss?"  
  
"I just showed you."  
  
He sniffled and wiped at his eyes and face with the back of his hand. It still hurt, but he wasn't overwhelmed, not like before.  
  
"I guess... it doesn't feel as heavy anymore."  
  
"You think you can handle it now?"  
  
"I think so, yeah."  
  
She smiled then and leaned forward all the way, pressing her lips against his forehead, just at the edge of his scar. Her lips left his skin and she began to pull away, but he stopped her. With a hand against her cheek, he stroked his hand through her tawny hair. She sighed softly and leaned into his hand, and, as her eyes closed, a single tear ran down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb and she opened her eyes, the blue glistening with more tears.  
  
He leaned up and kissed her, softly, letting a small whimper escape his throat as she kissed him back, her arms wrapping around the back of his neck, his own hands resting on her thigh and face. She leaned down into him, and he let her, using the leverage he had to help her keep her balance on the armrest, so she didn't tumble to the floor. Her scent brought on an onslaught of memories, from the training room in the Citadel to his room at his family's estate, and his confidence swelled around his broken heart, protecting it, as he searched for answers in his lover's lips, in the soft silk of her hair, and the small sweet noises she made when he took the chance and added a little tongue.  
  
She pulled away first, only to lean her forehead against his, hands moving to trace her fingers along the feathers standing out against the skin on his shoulders. He kissed her again, but briefly, only to get another hit of that sweet nostalgia.  
  
"I'll be here when this happens again," she whispered as he pulled away from the kiss.  
  
"Who says it has to?" he asked, running his hand back through her hair.  
  
"It always happens again." She kissed him this time, first with lips pressed to his, and then peppered kisses along his cheek, across his scar, stopping near his ear. "But I'm always here, too, okay?"  
  
He shuddered again and pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his head in her shoulder, her hair tickling at his face as it fell over his head in a curtain. He sighed and leaned back, taking her with him, helping her slide into his lap so he could just hold her, take in the scent of her shampoo, and memorize it.  
  
He saw now, she needed this as much as he had; he felt so selfish, but also just so grateful for it.  
  
And, just as he'd gotten comfortable, and her breathing had evened out against his ear, three dull smacks on the door broke the silence.  
  
"Yo, Nao, you guys decent?!" came the voice of the aforementioned reckless Glaive from beyond the motel door.  
  
Naomi sighed and pulled away from him, but not before he could steal another kiss, breathing sharp against her face and drawing it out for far too long, but also just long enough. She pulled back and smiled into his eyes, bracing her hands on the armrests as she stood slowly.  
  
"I swear if I open this door and see giant behemoth co--"  
  
"It's fine!" Naomi called out, with only a slight rasp in her voice. "You can come in."  
  
"Great."  
  
Gladio turned around in the chair just as the door opened, and Aquila came through, holding up a clear plastic bag with some kind of bottle inside.  
  
"Got yer booze," she grinned, pulling the bottle out to reveal it as a rather large bottle of silver tequila.  
  
"They didn't have champagne?" Naomi asked, walking over to the small cabinet by the door.  
  
"Not anything good. Besides, why have weak-ass champagne when you can have high-end tequila?"  
  
Naomi just sighed, exasperated, and Gladio chuckled to himself. The girls rounded Gladio's chair and arranged the coffee table in the center of the two chairs and one of the beds, where Aquila had planted herself.  
  
Naomi, on the other hand, placed three glass tumblers on the table and began filling them with small amounts of the tequila, to where Gladio estimated the amount of a shot would be. She swept her hair behind her ear before each pour, but it just fell back over in a stubborn wave, and she just kept trying to keep it back there. She did it one last time after pouring the last drink, then handed one drink to Aquila and offered another to Gladio.  
  
"Thanks, but what's with the booze?" he asked, staring up into her knowing blue eyes.  
  
"You wanted to do a toast, right?" she replied, taking her seat again.  
  
"A... toast?"  
  
"To your dad, genius," Aquila spoke up. "Isn't that why you came out here?"  
  
He faltered for a second, then shifted his gaze straight to Naomi. She smiled at him, a smile that reached her eyes and crinkled them at the edges. He let out a breath, and then smiled himself. She'd known what he wanted before he himself knew.  
  
"You're right, don't know what I was thinking." He lifted the glass, and the girls followed, Naomi still smiling at him. "To Sir Clarus Amicitia, Shield to the 113th King of Lucis, and the best father I could've ever asked for."  
  
"To Clarus," the girls echoed in unison.  
  
All three clinked their glasses together and knocked them back, the sour burn of the tequila stinging Gladio's throat as it went down. Wasn't enough to get him drunk or even buzzed, but was pleasant enough with his nostalgia high that he felt almost okay.  
  
He placed the glass back onto the table and wiped at his mouth, looking up at Naomi as she placed her own glass on the table. She met his gaze and smiled again.  
  
"Thanks," he said.  
  
She merely nodded, and Aquila began pouring more tequila into their glasses. The room shifted to the bullshitting he'd wanted earlier, before he'd poured his heart out to Naomi, but it wasn't a distraction this time, just goodnatured banter with two Glaives.  
  
Maybe being vulnerable once in awhile was just what he needed.


End file.
